


Borrowed Time

by afoxinsocks



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afoxinsocks/pseuds/afoxinsocks
Summary: Incognito outings from the Palace never fully become a habit after Dover House and Brocket Hall but they do increase in frequency, as the demands on her time and energy grow ever more in number and complexity. In an unmarked carriage, and in Mrs Francatelli’s confidence, she is able to explore the length and breadth of London, one borrowed hour at a time.





	

Incognito outings from the Palace never fully become a habit after Dover House and Brocket Hall but they do increase in frequency, as the demands on her time and energy grow ever more in number and complexity. In an unmarked carriage, and in Mrs Francatelli’s confidence, she is able to explore the length and breadth of London, one borrowed hour at a time. It’s a worthwhile endeavour, seeing her subjects go about their lives, understanding their needs, observing the city as Dickens’ writes of it. Albert would approve, perhaps, if she shared her findings with him. But she doesn’t. In her life there is little that is not subject to debate or criticism or compromise; between her court, the country, politics, and the children. So little that is just for her. Slipping from the carriage she lifts Dash, rather than allowing him to hop down or be hoisted by the driver. He’s so old now even his white fur has gone grey and he plods loyally at her heels, rather than scampering ahead, into Hyde Park.

~

She’s sketching a young couple, not as out of sight as they’d like to think, whispering to each other in the shade of a tree when Dash takes off from her feet with a yelp, running faster than she’d believe him capable of. It takes her a moment to pack up her supplies before she chases after him, ducking between the steady waves of people and horses, kicking up sand and fallen leaves. When she catches up she sees him dancing on his hind legs around a well-dressed man and young child, a girl, by the excited high pitched voice that becomes clearer as she grows nearer, approaching them from behind.

“Look, Daddy! A puppy!”

The man drops down to ruffle Dash’s ears, his voice amused, endlessly patient and immediately recognisable, “I think he’s rather too old to be called a puppy, darling. See how his fur has turned grey? If he were a person he’d be almost as old as your father!”

“You are not old, Lord M.”

Her response is immediate, unthinking and when he whirls round to stand and face her for a second it seems as if they’re back at Dover House again, as if he is still the centre of her world and she his. Three small smiles and he drops his head, as he did then, laughing before fixing her with a wry look.

“If that were true then, Ma’am, I’m afraid it certainly is not now.”

She smiles, offering her hand which he swiftly moves to take, kissing it lightly before slowly releasing. They stare softly at each other and she wonder what he sees. To her, he seems almost the same, only with greying curls and deeper lines. The girl – _his daughter_ , it suddenly dawns on her – slips between them, holding onto his leg, light eyes curious.

“Who’s this, Daddy?”

“This, darling, is Queen Victoria.”

Her stomach flutters at the little girl’s immediate gasp and curtsy and then again, as it’s rewarded by a fond ruffle of her hair by her father. He straightens, rocking on his heels and claps his hands behind his back.

“And this, Ma’am, is my daughter. Victoria.”

~

“Life in the old dog yet, it seems.”

Victoria and Dash chase each other like puppies in ever decreasing circles, fall down and then start all over again as she and Lord M walk arm in arm a short distance behind. It’s as if no time has passed, his charm and wit un-faded, as they talk of the years that have gone by since their correspondence petered out. Her fault, she knows. Too busy with her marriage, her children and fighting battles on all fronts. She wouldn’t have her life today if not for him and yet she’d known nothing of his. Not known that he’d found love again, married again, become a father to a little girl he’d named in her honour. Stopping abruptly, she ignores his questioning look and moves to tell her how sorry she is, how ashamed she is of her treatment of him, when he clasps her hand and shakes his head.

“Worry not of it, Ma’am.”

She moves to argue, so typical of them, when the realisation that he is happy comes to her. It's sudden but now so clear. He’s lighter somehow, now that he’s what he was always supposed to be. Free from politics, a devoted father, a husband. Loved, she thinks, warmly. He loves and is loved in return. She smiles, slowly at first, then fully, and laughs. She catches him off guard and then his face lights up as he laughs with her. She takes his arm again and they walk on.

~

They reach the gate all at once and suddenly their time has run out again. Lord M lifts an exhausted Dash back into the carriage and as he moves to take her hand again, she wonders if they’ll write to each other, if they’ll ever see each other again. Perhaps they will, more likely not, but once again she knows she’ll never forget, that this time together is a gift, one to be treasured.

_I find happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am._

Little Victoria slips between them again, curtsies and looks up at her, eyes solemn, “It was an honour to meet you, Ma’am.”

“And I you, Victoria. Dash very much enjoyed making a new friend.”

“Can we be friends, Ma’am?”

She hears Lord M’s sharp intake of breath, accompanied by a roll of the eyes heavenward.

“I’d like that very much.”

“And Daddy, too?”

Taking the girl’s hands in her own her voice falters for the briefest moment as she glances first to Victoria and then to Lord M, “Your father was my very first and very dearest friend, Victoria. The life I have today is because of him. I hope one day you meet a man who is everything to you that your father was - _is_ \-  to me.”

They’re caught again in a scene from their past, a final goodbye that has caught them by surprise, somehow. This time she rocks onto her tip toes to kiss his cheek, feels and remembers the warmth, the slightest brush of stubble and as they part she wonders at how so much between them has changed and so little.

“Goodbye, Ma’am.”

“Goodbye, Lord M.”

~


End file.
